


A Stipulation of Prospering

by LissyStage



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abused!Draco, Abused!Harry, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Good Slytherins, Hogwarts Era, Hogwarts Fifth Year, M/M, Mate!Harry, Romance, creature!Draco
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-01
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2017-12-16 18:58:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/865461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LissyStage/pseuds/LissyStage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The end of the year holds no such childish dreams for Draco, only the arrival of the inevitable: his death. Eventual HPDM slash, AU, child abuse, creature!fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This work of fiction is in no way connected to the author of Harry Potter, JK Rowling. Harry Potter is owned by her, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
> 
> Pairings: Eventual HPDM, mentions of one-sided SBRL, one-side SSLP, and RWHG. Any others will be mentioned as the story progresses.
> 
> Rating: T - +13 (Language, rating subject to change)
> 
> Warnings: WIP, creature!fic, mentions of abuse, possible depictions of on-going abuse, manipulations, and repressed emotions. Oh, and no character death of the HP or DM variety. Slash!
> 
> Originally posted on FFNet.

It wasn't like Draco had ever  _asked_  for this to be thrust upon him, this condition. He didn't wake up one day and ask to be like this.

Which was why he was getting really ticked off by the way Potter was staring at him. Either he knew what was going on, or he was just feeling especially spiteful today.

Sulking in his room was sounding better and better already. Unfortunately, that came with its own misfortunates. Crabbe would probably complain about the waves of depression and ire coming off from him again, and Goyle would just sit there and be stoic.

Groaning, Draco placed his head in both hands and prayed that he wouldn't cry.

"Mister Malfoy," Professor Dumbledore called for his attention, looking vaguely unimpressed, "Are you even listening?"

Instead of replying with usual his snark, Draco raised his head, and shrugged. He just shrugged. What else did you do when one of your family secrets is brought into the spotlight? At least, he thought that this was what this unprecedented meeting was about.

After all, Potter  _did_  see something he wasn't supposed to see.

So, he sulked, and he shrugged, and he just didn't care anymore.

Potter opened his mouth and said, "Look, Malfoy. Can't you just listen to the professor? It's not like he called us up here to discuss his favorite sweets." Potter stopped a moment and looked at Dumbledore warily, "You didn't, right?"

Dumbledore chuckled and replied, "No, not at all Mister Potter."

However, when he looked at Draco, his eyes had a certain gleam in them that bespoke of terrible things. It was so completely unfair that Draco nearly refused to listen. But the headmaster was still looking at him and was looking malevolent, of all things, and his self-preservation flared up.

"Okay." He muttered, looking up at the headmaster, but making sure to not make any sort of eye contact. Though his father was cold and distant, at best, he wasn't one to ever put his son in unnecessary danger. He knew of Dumbledore's common tricks well enough to be able to avoid having his mind violated.

"Now, as I was saying, this fighting needs to cease. You provide an unnecessary distraction to your year mates with your ceaseless squabbling.

"As a result, you will be given a year-long punishment; you will share the same classes, eat with each other, and do homework every day.

"Since you are of different houses, your professors have provided you with a schedule."

With a flick of his wand, the old codger handed them each their own respective lists.

"Now, head right back to your classes. I already alerted Professor Snape that I would hold you back for the beginning of class."

And with that, Dumbledore looked down at his parchments and starting writing with a quill. Feeling thoroughly unwelcome, Draco strided to the door of the office.

"Coming, Potter?" He called behind himself, turning a bit on his heel. He rolled his eyes when he met the furious gaze of the other boy.

Not even bothering to stop any longer, Draco walked out of the office, haughtily. He breathed a sigh of relief when he realized that his secret was, fortunately, safe.

It wouldn't do for the pompous arsehole to know that Draco was doomed to die before the end of the year, unless he bonded with the idiot. And Draco Malfoy refused to be tied down to  _him_ , of all people.

Not until Draco was already near the entrance of the Slytherin Dungeons, did he realize that he and Potter would be spending  _all year_ together. Things just got a whole lot harder...


	2. Up to Something

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Implications of very strong friendship between VC/DM/GG. I will probably explain this later on in the story. I find it a bit adorable to think of, though. Discussions of death. OOC Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle, since you never get a chance to ever see how they act when alone.

"Watch it, Potter," Malfoy had snapped at him, adjusting his robes in an overdramatic manner, "Try to control yourself."

"You're the one that brushed up against me, Malfoy," Harry, against better judgment, countered.

A running rendition of letting his know about this, following that, a well-placed insult about his family, and then a comment on the latter's lack of a family, later...

It only really took a few seconds before the two were virtually at each other's throats.

"Mister Potter!" A nauseatingly sweet voice floated towards them, "I will not have you attacking other students. Detention!"

Umbridge, the toad, practically skipped away, happy to have another day to torture the ever bleeding Hell out of him.

Harry had almost had Malfoy; though, for someone who hadn't seemed to ever lift a pampered hand, let alone a fist, the prat had a rather good arm. The distraction that Umbridge had created with her bright-pink presence had caused Harry to loosen his grip by the slightest on the blonde's collar, allowing the boy enough time to bunk out and play the part of the innocent victim like a finely-tuned fiddle.

Snorting disgustedly, Harry shook his head and brushed away the dirt from his robes, muttering about prats and their cowardly ways.

That had been yesterday. As a result, Dumbledore had laid into them about their "ceaseless squabbling", and decided to give the two fifth-years the worst punishment of them all: the gift, or curse, of the other's presence.

How in the Hell were the two of them supposed to be in the same room together without insults flying? It was going to be a total and complete disaster.

Malfoy, the bloody tosser, hadn't even paid attention to most of Professor Dumbledore's lecture. He had just sat there and stared off into space.

What was weird, though... his demeanor was all wrong. He had the stance of a man sentenced to his death. Before the punishment had even been given.

Something was going on with the wanker, and Harry was going to get to the bottom of it.

* * *

**Draco's POV**

* * *

When he had gotten back to the Slytherin dorms, mask fully in place, Draco had no idea what to do about his current situation. Or even how to feel about it.

On one hand, he would be spending all of his free-time with Potter. On the other hand, he would be spending  _all_ of his free-time with _Potter_.

How was one supposed to keep a secret as his without eventually giving himself away? He had already done that, and fortunately Potter's innate lack of observant skills had saved him from being found out.

How  _do_  you prevent your glamour from falling apart when in a fight, or even from changing fully anyway?

All of the Malfoy library books he had looked in on the subject always pointed to two particular tomes for more information: Yowling and its Heartaches by Cassandra HopperSkip, and Genetic Inheritances and Coming to Terms with an Ancestor Shagging a Creature by Professor Nigelius Black.

There were many copies of these books, but none that Draco could get his hands on without providing clues to a condition he'd rather not speak of.

So Draco's only plans for today were to angst and fight off tears of frustration.

He just hoped his Godfather understood why he had skived off his class, today. He never  _did_  like it when he did so. Not that Draco could really blame him, but he had a valid excuse this time, and he would use it to his advantage.

About an hour or two later, Draco awoke to the sounds of his dorm mates shuffling in from Potions.

"Oi, Draco," Crabbe whistled, walking over to his bed, "You best be getting up; we have Transfigurations today with the Gryffindorks."

Draco stretched limberly, making small noises as he smacked his lips a bit and rubbed his eyes with a pale hand.

He could hear Crabbe snort and turned towards him, "What's so funny?"

"You look, oddly enough, like a kitten waking up from a nap," he chuckled, stuffing his Transfigurations textbook inside his bag, "But you probably know that already, don't you?"

With a disgruntled growl, Draco inspected his perfectly manicured nails. "No idea what you mean, dear Vinny."

Shaking his head, Crabbe put his bag's strap over his shoulder, "Whatever you say, Dray."

As Draco moved into the bathroom to inspect his face and hair, he realized that today was his last bid of freedom before he was to lie every day for the rest of the year.

With a sigh, he decided to get rid of the gel with a flick of his wand and cleansed his mouth a bit, straightening out his robes and performing the necessary charms to prevent them from slipping any and to get rid of the wrinkles from sleeping in them.

"Malfoy, come on!" Goyle bellowed, stomping his foot once.

"Keep your shirt on," Draco sassed, checking for his bag. "Vinny, Greg, do you know where..."

"Your bag is?" Greg coolly remarked, holding out the messenger bag on a single finger.

Deeming himself ready, Draco said, "Okay, we can go. And I need to speak to you two after dinner."

Nodding their heads, the two boys took a deep breath each, before donning on their personas. 'Too bad no one will ever know how utterly brilliant these two really are,' Draco thought to himself sadly, before donning on his own cold, aloof mask.

When they had gotten to Transfigurations, the class was nearly full. And, for once, all of the Gryffindors had taken their seats already. Didn't mean the rowdy bunch wasn't louder than usual, though.

'Looks like Potter's told his precious friends,' he remarked mentally, inspecting all the dirty looks being tossed at him. Draco merely shrugged, used to the already-familiar treatment.

'It's not like I don't deserve it,' he thought, 'I do tend to wind him up, especially with the derogatory remarks I make towards his family, self, and friends.'

"-ter Malfoy!" Professor McGonagall screeched, mouth pursed, "I'd advise you to pay attention; this will be on your O.W.L's."

When she had her back turned, Goyle made a sly remark about how sour her face looked, to which Draco snickered quietly.

The class didn't end soon enough, and they departed for lunch.

The rest of the day was entirely uneventful, aside from the weird looks he got from all of the houses, and the yelling done by Umbridge. Apparently, he shocked the entire school with his change of hair style. And they didn't seem to like Umbridge either.

But on another note, Draco wasn't pleased in the least that he had absolutely no effect on Potter whatsoever.

'It's not like it is a bad thing,' he thought to himself, 'The less he reacts to me, the less likely I'll ever slip up too much.'

When dinner came and went, Crabbe and Goyle immediately sought refuge in their dorm room, waiting patiently for Draco to come in and tell them what he needed to say.

"Remember the fight I told you I got into with Potter yesterday?" He asked from the vicinity of his bed. Crabbe and Goyle were sitting across from him on another.

Nodding silently, his two best mates, Draco winced at the word, no, friends urged him on.

"I slipped up a bit on my glamour..."

"What?!" Crabbe shot up, "Draco, I thought you've been exercising extreme caution with that!"

"I have, Vinny," Draco pouted and reassured, "But being so close to Potter makes things happen. You know that."

Crabbe's face softened slightly, before he lamented with a quick jerk of his head.

"This morning, Dumbledore assigned us a year-long punishment; we'll be forced to spend all day and night together, until curfew."

"Oh no," Goyle muttered, shaking his head furiously, "No, he can't."

"Dray," Crabbe's voice cracked, face skewed a bit, "Wouldn't that cause an early death? What if, due to his meddling, and the denial of the bond, you eventually cease to exist before even the end of term?"

Draco bowed his head, warding off tears. He still had his pride, dammit, and he wouldn't surrender to tears.

After all,  _True Malfoys Don't Cry_.

"I don't know about that, but it sounds like a possibility.

"I-I just... this would've been so much easier had I not acted like such a berk when we had first met," said Draco, "Maybe we could've had even been the slightest of friends. Maybe then I wouldn't have to choose death over a life sentence of unhappiness.

"You know what that rejection on the Hogwarts Express did to me Greg, Vinny. What if he, unknowingly says something that the creature, the other me, takes as another one. I don't think I can survive such a terrible thing, again. My heart and soul had burned so much..."

Both boys scrambled off the bed, unable to not comfort their fragile friend. They embraced him tightly, and pet his hair soothingly.

While Crabbe focused his empathic abilities on projecting warm, comforting thoughts, Greg was the rock that held the two together, the anchor.

'If only I could bond with these two,' Draco thought to himself. 'They are not nearly as bad as others would think it.'

Soon enough, Draco fell into a deep slumber, all thoughts of inheritances and the unfairness of fate being swept away by the continuing flashes of warmth and platonic love enveloping him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to read all of the chapter summaries for the Order of the Phoenix in order to recall the events. This story will be set in their fifth-year, but you probably already knew that.
> 
> Ummm, this will be before the Quidditch match where Draco insults Harry, Fred, and George. Ya know, when they attacked him?


	3. Growing a Brain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As you can probably tell, the chapter titles are usually a phrase or word in the chapter that I think best summarizes it. hehe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Harry, your Slytherin is showing. Dear boy, please be more discreet next time.

"It's time to get up, Dray," Crabbe called, shaking his roommate awake. What came was a garbled noise. The flaxen-haired teen pulled the covers further over his head, not wanting to face the day.

"Come on, Dray," Crabbe grumbled, "You need to get up before we miss breakfast!"

Greg walked over, straightening his tie. "He refuses to get up?"

"I've tried my best; he just won't wake."

The bulky boy pressed a single finger to his own lips, indicating for Vinny to hush up. Greg looked down, hands at both sides, fingers dancing slightly.

Ripping away the blankets, ignoring the startled yelp, he jumped on the smaller boy.

Straddling his hips, Goyle laid a hand on either side of the boy's torso, grinning down at him mischievously.

Cursing his own stupidity, Draco glared. "This is  _so_  not on, Goyle. What are you doing?"

"Get up, or you get tickled."

Eyes widening slightly, Draco realized how precarious a position he was in. Weighing his options, he opted to get up, not willing to risk the burning of his lungs.

Moving into the bathroom, Draco looked in the mirror, scowling at his face. The mirror, however, held a different opinion.

It whistled, "Aren't you looking the part of the handsome devil, today?"

Grumbling, the blonde realized he had left his wand on the night table. He walked out of the bathroom, to see a hushed, and rather serious, conversation between Goyle and Crabbe.

They immediately quieted down when he bent towards his night stand, searching for his wand.

"What're you doin'?" Asked Vincent, leaning back on Greg's bed.

"Looking for my wand," Draco mumbled, "Ah-hah!"

Reminding himself not to let it bug him, as Draco kept some secrets from them, too, he walked back into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Looking at his reflection again, the teen muttered a mouth cleansing charm and then a series of spells: shaving, moisturizing, hair straightening, et cetera. After all, he couldn't venture outside looking like he did when he first woke.

Satisfied with his appearance, he opened the door, and summoned today's set of robes and uniform, plus his shoes and socks.

Laying his hawthorn wand on the counter, the slim boy slipped one piece of clothing on after another, determined to look his best today. Otherwise, Potter would think he had the upper-hand. Right?

'Of course not,' he corrected himself mentally, 'I'm just overreacting, as always. He doesn't give two shits about me.'

Pouting at that thought, Draco dressed quicker, making sure to cast a charm to fix any wrinkles that may be on his robes.

When he was done, he gathered up his bag and looked over his new schedule. Scowling fiercely, Draco realized that all of his classes, besides the ones that he already had with the Gryffindors, were moved around. He no longer took Study of Ancient Runes, instead it was Divination. Care of Magical Creatures was back on his time table, causing him to pale and panic.

His new condition disallowed for him to take that class. Of course, since the only ones aware of it were Crabbe and Goyle, the professor had added it.

He just hoped that the creatures they would study in the class were especially fond of what he was. Just enough to ensure he wasn't targeted for being "easy prey".

Crabbe and Goyle were waiting for him, silently, by the door. Their faces were mournful, already worried for him.

Pasting on a happy face, Draco said, "At least I still have most of my classes with the both of you!"

"Draco," Crabbe started, before Greg elbowed him in the stomach.

Laughing humorlessly, he said, "Yeah, at least!"

Crabbe tried, and failed, at the fake laughter.

Clearing his throat, Draco said, "Shouldn't procrastinate; after all, I didn't spend all that time in the bathroom for it to be wasted!"

They all automatically assumed their personas, Crabbe and Goyle acting the mindless bodyguards, Draco the cold, spoiled leader.

Smirking, the blond said, "Let's go, boys."

About an hour later, the trio of Slytherins met the Golden trio of Gryffindors outside the Great Hall doors after breakfast.

Draco locked eyes with Potter and smirked, eyes glinting mischievously. To anyone else, they would look malicious; the intended affect.

Potter's shoulders tensed up, eyes narrowing, jaw set. His usual reaction whenever Draco looked at him in this way.

"Potter," Draco purred, "Have you looked at your time table today?"

Potter relaxed slightly, leaning his back on the wall behind him, "Yeah, Malfoy. What about it?"

"Tell me; were there any changes, at all?"

Shrugging his shoulders, brows drawn together, "No, none that I could see. Do you think Professor Dumbledore made an error?"

Making a small disgruntled sound at the raven-haired teen's naivety, Draco snapped his fingers, "Goyle!"

Greg's eyes lit up, waiting for the incoming order, "Give me the time table that Professor Dumbledore gave me yesterday."

He could hear the distinct sounds of Greg's practiced fumbling, and followed it with an impatient tapping of his foot. Greg grunted an apology for the wait, and Draco snatched the parchment out of his rough hands.

Looking it over one more time, for show, he handed it out to Potter.

Draco closed his eyes briefly as their hands brushed together accidentally, and felt the familiar tingle of his soul at the touch, albeit brief.

Opening his eyes immediately, he was shocked by the observant eyes of the Gryffindor.

Sharing a glance with Crabbe and Goyle, Draco knew they saw it, too.

He swallowed convulsively, hoping that the Gryffindor hadn't decided recently to acquire some sort of intelligence. Considering how quietly Draco was planning on going, it was distressing.

Gaining his composure back, Draco inspected the nails on his left hand, making a show of his perfect manicure.

A gasp and he realized that Potter  _had_ decided to think like an intelligent being.

'Well, I be damned,' Draco thought, 'He's finally growing up...'

The teen looked up, nostrils flaring, "Are you fucking with me?"

"Of course not," Draco snapped, more angry at Potter for deciding to throw his assumption back his face, than the question, "And mind your language, you are within the vicinity of several prefects."

Potter took several deep, calming breaths before his stormy forest-green eyes locked onto Draco's cold pale-grey. "So, Dumbledore moved all of your classes, but not mine?"

He heard Granger gasp in the background, and the chuckling of the Weasel, but didn't pay any mind to it. "That's about the gist of it, Potty."

Shaking his head, Potter said, "Why would he do this? Even if you  _are_  a prat, he shouldn't show such blatant favoritism."

Shaking his head furiously, the Slytherin responded, "Potter, what do you think he's been doing throughout the years?"

"Huh?"

"Never mind, just," Draco sighed long-sufferingly, "Just give me back my time table so we can go to our classes together, alright?"

Startled emeralds met his gaze, before he nodded swiftly and held the parchment out for Draco to take.

This time, the flaxen-haired wizard took extra care to ensure that he didn't touch any part of Potter's skin.

And this time, he was aware of the eyes that watched his every move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like this website. Especially the tags feature xD I HAD to ask for an account, since I've been going through all of the slash fanfiction I could find. Kudos! Maaow!
> 
> A note for the story: If you're wondering why I keep side-stepping what Draco is, it's because he's still in a bit of an incredulous denial. He knows what he is, he has transformed a few times, and read up a bit on it from the literature he could get his hands on, but he isn't quite used to, or even comfortable, with the idea, as of yet.


	4. Unnerved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> （・(ｪ)・）

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning(s): POV switching halfway through?
> 
> The punctuation errors (commas and periods during dialogue) are something I apologize for. I'm sorry!

They turn a quick corner, and are quite the sight to behold. Most of the students in the corridors are shocked to see the two infamous trios walking alongside each other, silently.

Draco is slightly unnerved by this, and that's only because Potter has put him in the spotlight, right when he least needed it. He hadn't wanted to be close to the git. Why was it that the Gryffindor couldn't have just walked away from Draco's usual snipes?

He blames the entire situation, at this moment, all on the berk.

As they stride into the History of Magic classroom together, the few students already there give them bemused looks.

'Well,' Draco thought, exasperatedly, 'It's not my fault that your precious boy-hero can't keep his hands to himself.'

Draco immediately drops into a seat in the middle of the room, making sure there is enough space for Granger and the Weasel, and more importantly, Crabbe and Goyle, to sit nearby.

His two best friends just flash twin sympathetic smiles, though all the more encouraging. He's proud of how secretively they do it, just so no one realizes that he is actually close to them. How important they are, or that Draco thinks of them as more than just a couple of bodyguards.

Then it's just Potter and Draco.

"Look, Potter," the flaxen-haired teen hisses, careful to make it inaudible, "I know it may seem  _odd_  to you, but I wanted to get through this year as quietly as possible."

Draco held up a single digit when the raven-haired teen nearly interrupted him.

"No, wait," he calmly ordered, "Like it or not, you have irrevocably taken away that chance. No longer will I be allowed to be alone with Crabbe and Goyle, nor will I be allowed time alone to myself.

"I have been forced to take a class that I _dropped for a reason_ , and another one that will be more of a bother than anything else.

"Do me this one favor and don't speak to me, touch me, nor try to look at me. This punishment doesn't require any of those things."

With that said, Draco took out a piece of parchment just in time for the class to begin.

It feels like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders, a relief, to tell Potter all of that. Hopefully, the teen wouldn't bother him for at least an entire day. Draco wouldn't be able to take his proximity  _and_ speaking to him in stride. It would only break him.

'After all,' Draco thought, 'No one else need know.'

Then, he started to take notes.

As Professor Binns droned on and on about the goblin wars, Draco heard the faint tapping of a quill. Then, it evolved into finger drumming and leg bouncing.

He tried his best to hold it in, but Potty was really getting on his nerves. Clenching his jaw, trying not to allow his volatile temper to win out, Draco did his best to concentrate on the toneless voice of the ghost.

But after a few minutes, it starts to get louder and louder in his ears. As if Potter knows just how much of an annoying git he's being.

Draco sits up immediately, taking up his quill pen, and raps Potter over the knuckles with it.

"Ow!" The teen cried out, clenching his fist in his other hand. "What the bloody Hell did you do  _that_  for?"

"I don't know, Potter," the flaxen-haired wizard drawled, eye twitching, "What the fuck have you been doing to incite my anger?"

"Nothing!"

"You've been an annoyance, not even a half an hour into class. How do you piss me off in so little amount of time?!"

"I'm not the one who's boring," Harry raged, "It's not my fault that I have been moved away from my friends!"

"Whose fault do you think it is?  _I'm_  not the one who attacked me in the hallway!"

"Well, I'm not the one that pushed pass me!"

"Fuck you, Potter!"

"You wish, Malfoy!"

Draco was shocked, his jaw threatening to drop in the most unattractive manner, before he forced himself to regain his composure. It wasn't like they hadn't flung such stupid insults before. However, the pressure of the looming deadline, and just the stress of it all was the tip of the iceberg.

Draco completely shut down his emotions and said, in an icy voice, "Forget it, I won't even bother."

He sat back down and straightened out his robes, looking every way the aristocrat he was. Flashing a cold smile at Potter, he says, "You should probably sit down, the entire class is waiting."

And Draco guessed that's when Potter finally remembered where they were. Or maybe the realization that he's standing.

Either way, even Professor Binns was waiting for him to sit his arse down.

When done, Potter just seemed to project a complete distaste for Draco's mere existence. And that's completely natural.

After all, it's not like he cared about it. Right?

* * *

**Harry's POV**

* * *

Harry was shocked, and chilled, to see that terribly forced smile on Malfoy's face. It just didn't  _belong_  there. A smirk, a scowl, maybe even a sneer, but not that. It didn't fit.

He sat down and tried not to annoy the other wizard. But he hadn't known what he was doing before, and he sure as Hell doesn't now.

Ron turns around and looks at him, making a face at Malfoy's down-turned head. Harry tries his best to grin at the little fun made at Malfoy's expense, but his facial muscles just won't cooperate.

He has to quickly find out what's going on with the other wizard.

As class lets out, Crabbe and Goyle turn in the opposite direction that the trio and Malfoy are going.

And then Harry realizes he's left his textbook back in the class.

"Go on without me," he calls over to Ron and Hermione. They both look a little panicked to have to suffer through Malfoy's presence alone, but the blonde aristocrat just walks as far from them as he can, not speaking a word, though his head is up, and he's walking straight.

As Harry turns to duck back into the room, he's suddenly grabbed and finds himself thrusted into an empty classroom. He scrambles up, and just when his fingers are clasped around his wand, it's flying away from his grasp, and a beefy hand is holding it.

"Oi," he yells, "Give it back."

Then he feels another person behind him and realizes that he has no means of escape.

'Dammit,' he thinks, 'why are they doing this?!'

"As stupid as our persona insists we act, Potter," Crabbe says from in front of him, the one that Disarming Charm. "We aren't really."

"We just want to issue a warning," Goyle growls from behind him, causing Harry's hackles to rise, "Don't mess up this year for Draco."

"He's been forced through some bad times, and we don't want you to cause any trouble for him. If you even  _think_  about saying something rude, about his mum, or even the Death Eaters, the Dark Lord won't just have the right to a price on your head."

The teen behind Harry grabs his shoulders and spins him around, "Just ponder this thought," he whispers threateningly, "You haven't truly faced a Slytherin with a grudge until you've had a Crabbe or a Goyle come after you."

Then, just as quickly as it was to get Harry here, they leave. Harry is just left there, wondering what he has gotten himself into, once again.

He falls to his knees and chuckles humorlessly. They had been the ones to take his textbook, he thinks as he picks up the book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wouldn't consider this my best chapter...
> 
> I don't really know what classes Draco shares with Pansy and Blaise, so I think they will just be side-characters that are just there. Depends, really, on the way the story turns.


	5. Unknown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (*^。^*)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning(s): Cheesy cliffhanger xD

"Oi, Malfoy," Draco hears the Weasel call from his right. He turns his head and is honestly surprised to see both the red-head and Granger there.

Draco muses to himself about the likelihood of not getting even worse off on his punishment if he snubs them and walks away. Shaking his head, the flaxen-haired wizard dismisses the thought and turns fully towards the two.

"Yes?"

They look at each other, obviously believing he was just going to ignore them. 'Glad I managed to astound them,' he thinks to himself.

"Well," Granger starts, sharing another brief look with Weasley. "We just wanted to know what class you had next."

Draco sighs exasperatedly, "Granger, didn't you hear what I told Potter earlier this morning? What he even confirmed as truth?"

When she looks at him blankly, he shakes his head, a hand running through his loose, straight hair, "I have all of the same classes as Potter, now. So, like him, I have a free period, right now."

She looks away, probably hiding a blush of embarrassment, and Draco just continues walking.

"Oi, Malfoy!" And Draco closes one of his hands into a fist out of pure annoyance.

Looking back, he grits his teeth into a smile, "What  _is_  it?"

"Don't do anything to Harry," he warns, trying his best to be intimidating, yet not succeeding in the slightest. "We'll hear about it."

Turning back around, Draco chooses not to reply. Instead, he just waves a hand, palm forwards, as a farewell to the two-thirds of the Golden Trio.

Several minutes pass by, and Draco is forcefully pulled out of his somber reverie, walking the, seemingly, never-ending halls of the castle when he hears, "Malfoy!"

Draco just shakes his head and turns around, mouth opening to in order to retaliate. However, he pauses. "Potter, are you quite alright?" He asks, concern lacing his, normally malevolent, voice.

Potter looks at him as if he'd just been Confounded, "What?"

Draco's pale-grey eyes widen as he gesticulates wildly, "No, no, no; I'm not worried. It's just..." he averts his gaze, "You look... panic-stricken. As if you'd just seen something absolutely strange."

Harry scratches his head in contemplation, and then reluctantly accepts the explanation. "Yeah, I did. Do me a favor and call off your dogs, will ya?"

"Dogs?" Draco turns back, crossing his arms in front of his chest, head tilted to the side, "I don't own a dog, let alone enough for it to be worthy of plural."

Harry smacks his hand against his head, "Sorry, muggle idiom. I meant Crabbe and Goyle."

Draco sniffs in anger, "Neither Crabbe nor Goyle are even remotely related to dogs. Now, if you're done insulting the people close to me, I have more important things to do. Like, walking around the corridors in boredom."

Harry just makes a sound filled with frustration as Draco proceeds to walk away, then catches up to the other teen in a few strides, "I didn't mean for that sentence to come out as an insult."

Draco sighs and stops, turning towards Potter, "Fine, how did you mean for it to come out?"

"Crabbe and Goyle stole my History of Magic textbook and threatened me."

Draco shakes his head, "Why are you telling me this?"

Harry scowls a bit, "Because this entire incident was my fault. If I hadn't been acting like such a git during class, you wouldn't have gone completely cold."

Draco snorts in faint amusement, biting his lip and nodding in agreement, "Yeah, it does seem so. Let me handle Crabbe and Goyle."

"Weird thing is," Potter added, hands resting in his trouser pockets, eyes locked onto a painting with a man holding a bow and quiver in one hand. "They were completely coherent and smart; even knew the Disarming Charm."

Draco dropped his head in one of his hands, leaving another one out towards Harry to signal for him to cease, "Don't tell anyone about that."

"Why," Harry said, "do I have to do anything you say?"

"Because this isn't about me. It's about Crabbe and Goyle. I rather their parents not find out about their actual intelligence level."

Harry seems to ponder this for a few moments, going through all of his options, and hesitantly nods, "I want a truce, though."

Draco lifts up his head and looks at the Gryffindor, a single eyebrow arched in disbelief, "A truce?"

Potter takes a hand out of his pocket and sticks it out towards Draco, "Yes, a truce."

Draco looks at the outstretched palm as if it were some new mutation that only Potter could have ever contracted, "And what are the terms of this... truce?"

Potter just says, "No Ron calling you Ferret, or Mal-bino, or pointy. We try to not insult each other for over a week. After that, Crabbe and Goyle need to keep their hands off of me."

Draco contemplates the pros and cons of such an agreement.

'Well, then I won't be forced to say anything rude to Potter for the duration of the remaining school year... Weasel wouldn't be bothering me with his mindless chatter... Vinny and Greg wouldn't need to get their hands dirty...

'But," he thought, looking at a distant corner of the corridor. 'I would not only risk exposing myself to Potter, but any feelings I may have could mistakenly slip out. We might even come into contact accidentally. I mean, I'd have to touch him for this alone...'

The other part of Draco, the part ruled by animal instinct - wanting to protect, cuddle, nurture, and just  _be_  by the raven-haired wizard's side - well, its ears perked up. If the glamour Draco had cast on himself weren't in affect, he would've probably found himself looking incredibly silly.

He turns and looks at the Gryffindor. Potter was smiling kindly, his hair mussed up as usual, glasses hiding emerald eyes. Nodding his head, Draco tugged his robe sleeve over his pale hand, making sure only the thin, black material came into contact with Potter's skin.

The teen quirked an eyebrow, bewildered, "Um, Malfoy... what's with the sleeve?"

Thinking fast, Draco just shrugged, "I don't like touching people much anymore."

Nodding his head in reply, Potter quickly withdrew his own palm, stuffing it back into his trousers pocket.

The other wizard nodded his head towards the end of the hallway, "Wanna go and hangout for the rest of the free period?"

Shrugging his bag back into place, Draco nodded his head, lips pursed.

The two teens wandered around the halls, totally oblivious to the observant eyes of another lurking in the shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is frequently updated on FFNet, and as such will also be updated on here. ^~^


	6. Half-Breed

An uneasy silence falls between the two teens, and Harry begins to grow antsy from the vacancy of the Malfoy heir's face.

Clearing his throat, awkwardly, Harry says, "Well... did you finish up your homework for Professor Snape?"

Malfoy spares him an accessing glance, and then nods with a quick jerk of his head. "Yeah, it wasn't that hard."

The raven-haired teen's eyes bulge, " _Whaaaat_?"

A nearby painting of a sleeping maiden shushes him, and he dramatically lowers his tone to a secretive whisper, "I mean,  _whaaaaat_?"

Harry can see the flaxen-haired teen's lips twitch slightly, a corner quirking into a small smile, before he sobers his expression.

"I have a hard enough time reading those text books," he yawns into his hand, for added effect. "Not to mention the fact that, during class, I have a giant bat of hate buzzing around me."

Malfoy raises an eyebrow, "Bats buzz?"

"Hush," Harry says. "Don't interrupt."

Malfoy just shakes his head in reply.

Several minutes later, Draco and Potter had somehow found themselves at a dead-end.

"I've never seen a corridor suddenly end," Draco complained, miffed by the sudden lack of cooperation on the castle's part.

"Maybe there's another way through?" Potter asked, tilting his head to the side.

Draco had to fight hard to keep his other side at bay. When Potter did something like that, it caused his ears to perk, and his tail to twitch. However, Draco knew to pump in a bit more will into the magic; after all, wouldn't it be disconcerting to blink, and suddenly have a-

"Malfoy!" Potter called, excitement laced in his voice. Curiosity quickly deterred that train of thought, and he sauntered closer to the other teen, pushing a few strands of hair behind his ear.

"Yes?" he asked.

"I think I found the other entrance," the other teen said, face brightening. Draco tried not to stare, and averted his eyes. To his relief, his face didn't feel the least bit warm.

"Okay," he said simply. Avoiding Potter's gaze was so hard when they were so green, and shiny, and...

'Stop,' Draco scolded his instincts-ruled half. 'You cannot just do that.'

Before it had a chance to whinge back, Potter was waving a hand in front of his eyes.

"There you are," the Gryffindor 'tsked', shaking his head. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, of course I am," Draco snapped, crossing his arms defensively. "Now, if you would continue what you were doing..."

Potter just glared at him in shock, "I'm not the one that stood there, glassy-eyed, for several seconds."

"Whatever."

Potter's shoulders tensed up for a moment, before he turned and sighed the tension out, rolling his shoulders. "Just c'mon."

"Okay," Draco agreed, after realizing that nodding wouldn't work.

The creature inside of him yapped, and he silenced it with an icy look.

Needless to say, not a peep was heard from that side of him.

Several minutes later, after Potter had virtually dragged him into a new passageway that branched out from an old painting of flowers - how he had found it, Draco would never know - they stopped in front a pair of French doors.

"Potter," Draco nudged the Gryffindor with his elbow.

"What?" the teen whined, obviously put-off by the interruption.

"We need to go."

The raven-haired teen slowly drew his hand away from the knob, "What time is it?"

"Late enough that I know we will miss dinner, at this rate."

Emerald eyes widened, "Seriously?"

Nodding his head tightly, Draco turned away and strode down the hallway. When he was about half-way down, he turned back to look for the teen.

Rolling his eyes, he called, "Potter, gain some self-control. Let's go!"

Shrugging his school bag higher on his shoulder, Potter ran towards the blond.

Draco just watched, dispassionately, as the teen caught up to him swiftly.

"What?" Potter snapped, pushing his glasses higher atop the bridge of his nose.

"Nothing," the blond scowled, walking faster.

Getting as far away from the raven-haired teen as imaginable, Draco ends up outside of the Great Hall doors in just a matter of time.

It's funny, he had been exaggerating on the time, so why was he so nervous? He felt as if he shouldn't have left Potter. After all, he  _is_  the Boy-Who-Lived. What if he were to get hurt or something...

Now, that wasn't a train of thought that Draco normally entertained. After he made note of that, he felt a shifting in his robes, and decided he needed to go make sure everything was alright.

He ducked out of the way of the doors and walked inside of a bathroom.

Gasping, he realized why he had been feeling so odd: his glamour had come off. Somehow. But he recalled adding more power into the spell...

Shaking his head, and taking a deep breath, Draco unsheathed his wand and pointed it at himself, muttering a few words in French. It was such a good thing that his native language was French...

When he opened his eyes, though he hadn't remembered closing them, he was pleased to see that all of his animal-like characteristics were safely tucked away.

He just wishes he was able to find those books...

Several minutes pass by, and Draco realizes he's really late to dinner.

Grabbing his bag, where he had set it earlier during his crisis, Draco heads for the bathroom doors.

Before he manages to even touch the door, a hand is placed on his shoulder. The slender blond is then turned and forced against the wall.

His newly awakened instincts cause him to nearly hiss at the rough treatment, especially from someone that  _wasn't his mate_.

And he doesn't even need to guess who it was trapping him against the wall.

"What do you want, Zabini?"

"Awe, don't be like that, love."

"Don't call me that!" the blond snaps, clenching his hands into fists. He calms down, trying not to tear the other Slytherin into pieces.

He may be part animal, but he damn well wouldn't be anything more than civilized whilst in such a precarious position.

"So, what was that that I just saw?" the teen asks, hands on either side of flaxen hair. Draco hopes he doesn't touch him.

"What was what?" he denies, eyes wide in innocence.

"Don't screw around with me, half-breed! I know what I fucking saw!" he fists the blond's hair, just missing the bare skin of his scalp by a few centimetres.

Draco tenses up, claws unfurling. He forces himself to calm. 'There's nothing to be scared of,' he assures himself, looking directly into the stare of furious almond-eyes.

Before Draco is made to answer, they can make out Crabbe and Goyle getting closer to the toilet. With a look of anger, Blaise places his hand...

On Draco's mouth.

His glamour falls apart as he struggles against the touch.  _No, not_ his _touch. Bad touch. Bad Draco. You let someone touch you. Unfit._

He starts to scream and whimper. Blaise is caught off-guard from the sudden changes in his mood and features.

He backs away after Draco releases a muffled hiss, then turns tail and runs out of the toilet.

Gregory and Vincent are there, in no time.

The last thing he sees before he slips into darkness is their shocked expressions.

 _Unfit_.


	7. Distress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for not updating last week >~>

Neck deep in dreams of unreliability and failure, Draco was haunted with visages of anger and resentment. The torment was wrought to both him and his creature-side. He awoke quickly, just a deep breath, and then his eyes sprang open, wide with fright.

"Draco!" Crabbe cried, eyes rimmed red, though he appeared slightly startled at the sudden wakefulness of his friend.

Blinking blearily, the blond coughed a few times, and then turned towards his friend. "W-what's going on?"

"Zabini," Goyle grunted, face twisted in disgust at the mere mention of the teen. Draco could hear the faint grind of his teeth. "Managed to corner you in the bathroom."

"We are so sorry," his bulky friend cried, cutting off Gregory from his explanation of the events.

Gasping, Draco said, "He saw me without m-"

"That situation has already been remedied." Gregory simply stated, hands resting in his lap. "Let's just say, he's lying in the Hospital Wing with a splitting headache, no recollection of anything that's happened in the past three months..."

Crabbe grinned proudly at the other boy, "You should've see Greg. 'How dare you lay one of your diseased fingers, no less a hand, on a Malfoy, after all you've done?!'" he mocked.

Greg swatted at him, then continued, "Well, anyway, he will no longer remember what he witnessed in that bathroom.

"However, you need to be far more careful than you have previously been. Though it pains me to say, neither Vinny, nor I, can be at your side, at all times.

"And if we can't be there, you know what has to happen. You need to stick by Potter for the times that we cannot, no matter what."

Draco face went several shades paler, if such was even possible, clutching at the sheets tucked around his waist. "B-but..."

"Draco," the brunet softly whispered, looking the blond directly in his gray eyes. "You must tell Potter."

"No," he refused, tears stinging behind his eyes. But he was just so tired... and his inner creature was crying at the back his mind; his soul, crying out desperately for the safety, the sanctum, of its mate's, his mate's, arms. "I cannot. He would ruin me!"

"He's a Gryffindor, and Harry Potter!" Vincent pleaded. "He will surely not leave you to die!"

"But that is the only thing he will do..." Draco cried, eyes wide with fright, trembling. "It wouldn't be what I would need. Sure, I would probably live for a few more years, but the moment he turns around and finds a woman to settle down with, I'll be forgotten, dead!

"And, even then, the atrocity of having let someone touch me, would surely make him reject me. I am unfit for a person, such as him."

Both boys were shocked at the vehemence behind the young aristocrat's words; the despairing belief that all was lost.

Neither could take such a loss of such spirit, of the vibrancy of their long-time friend. Vinny's cheeks were, now, streaked with a new batch of tears, and Gregory's head was ducked, face resting in his large hands.

And that is how they remained, for the rest of the evening.

* * *

**Harry's POV**

* * *

He felt it during dinner; or, rather, heard it. It was a low whine at the back of his mind, a desperate plea for help.

Shaking the gloom, Harry ignored it. It, fortunately, left soon enough. Looking around the Great Hall, he noticed Malfoy hadn't entered, yet.

The sound came back, but as a young child crying. It haunted him, and made him shiver.

"Harry," Ron questioned, brows scrunched together in thought. "Are you okay?"

Raising his head, Harry frowned, shaking it rapidly. Then, he stopped. Did he really want to keep a secret from his trusted friends?

He looked at his friends, and heaved a great sigh of discomfort.

"I've been hearing stuff lately, like a sort of... droning voice at the back of my head..."

Placing her book down on the table, Hermione arched a brow. "How has your scar been?"

"Fine," Harry said. "It's nothing related to the... the dreams I've been having lately."

"Well, if you're feeling unwell," Hermione started, a hand guarding the page she was currently reading. "Maybe you should go to the dormitories and rest."

Looking between the two teens, Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. Shrugging, he stood, "Okay, fine. It's probably nothing to worry about. Yeah, it's just gotta be my imagination." he lied through his teeth, offering a sheepish smile.

At that moment, he noticed Crabbe and Goyle stand up, striding towards the Great Hall doors. Waving a quick farewell to his friends, Harry trailed behind the two.

When they turned towards the toilet, Harry nearly just walked past them towards the Gryffindor dorms.

But that's when the feeling came back full-force. It spoke of embarrassment, of needing contact, of filthiness. Infidelity. And it got more powerful the closer he got to the doors.

A curse rang out, and he could see a fifth-year Slytherin run out of the bathrooms, nearly slipping on the floor. In his rush, he never noticed Harry's gaze.

A distressed cry, one he didn't recognize, and he realized that Crabbe and Goyle had run into the bathroom.

Making a split-second decision, the raven-haired teen dug into his school bag, opened up his Invisibility Cloak, and slipped into the bathroom.

What he saw made him pause. Malfoy was slumped on the floor, leaning onto the wall, but he didn't look like himself. His face was as pale as a sheet, and his breathing was rapid.

What was odd were the cat ears resting atop of his head, pressed down against his head in a gesture of sadness; however, there was something a bit peculiar about them, besides the fact that they were even there.

They were long. Longer than usual ears. They seemed unusually large, but no less cat-like in their appearance. Triangular in shape, pink in the inside, tufts of hair - or was it fur? - though they seemed rounder. 'Like a muggle traffic cone,' he mused to himself.

Then, below them were small, indiscernible whiskers affixed upon his cheeks, and his nose was significantly smaller. It had a pink tinge to it, and seemed to twitch every so-often, not typical of a cat, but of some other sort of creature.

Draco didn't seem to have a tail, though he had claws. Shark claws, though they were probably the darkest part of him, being grayish in colour.

Taking a calming breath, Harry memorized all he had seen, up to now. Catching Malfoy off-guard like this hadn't been his plan, but neither had been actually finding out what it is he had been up to: surviving.

When Crabbe and Goyle carefully lifted the blond up, the Gryffindor slipped out of the doors with them, making a run for the dorms. He'd get to the bottom of this.


	8. Irony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally updated, gais! And look at the newest tag on the relationships >~>

When Harry arrived at the steps leading to Gryffindor Tower, he paused in his tracks. Pulling the Cloak away from his body, he slumped against the wall and contemplated what he had just seen.

' _It is slightly ironic_ ,' mused Harry. ' _The Malfoys aren't as pure-blood as they make themselves out to be._ '

Going over the distinct characteristics – the longish cat ears, the claws, the whiskers, and the tiny pink nose – Harry was completely stumped. How did that even work? He shuddered at the thought, and locked it away to never again be contemplated. He felt the same way he had when he and Ron were talking about how Hagrid's mum and…

'Stop, _stop_!'

Backtracking, once again, Harry took a few more seconds to compose himself. Feeling himself fit for walking into the common room, he walked up the steps, carefully side-stepping the loose board, and smiled at the Fat Lady's portrait.

"And where have  _you_  been all night, dearie?" she asked.

"Just walked around Hogwarts," he answered cryptically, smiling at her. She eyed him sceptically, before seeming to take his answer at face value.

"Jelly slugs," he said, and the door opened automatically. Ducking inside of the common room, he nearly groaned at the sight of Ron and Hermione. Hermione's head perked up at the noise, having been reading a rather large tome, and she silently nudged Ron with her foot. Ron grinned up at him from his lone game of wizarding chess.

"Hey, mate!" he said. "Where have you been?"

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked, worrying her bottom lip.

Harry nearly forgot what he had agreed to earlier and smiled sheepishly, rubbing his arm with the hand not holding the Cloak. "Yeah, I decided to take a stroll around the castle after I left the Great Hall. Was feeling restless."

Hermione had this look about her that said she hadn't believed him, which exasperated Harry. Ron, on the other hand, merely shrugged and moved another piece on the board.

After a few seconds, Harry started to fidget restlessly on his feet and took a seat in one of the armchairs. He sunk into it and stared into the flames of the hearth, still stuck on  _The Malfoy Problem_ , as he had decided to dub it.

Hermione called his name, "Are you sure you're alright, Harry?"

Sighing, Harry rubbed a hand over his face and turned towards the bushy-haired teen. She had closed her book, and didn't look as if she would take another, "Yeah," for an answer.

"I think there's something going on with Malfoy…" he started, before Ron's grunt interrupted him.

"Oh, the Ferret?"

"Ron, please," Hermione said, a glare fixed on her face. Ron scowled at her.

"When I walked out of the Great Hall, I  _was_  heading to the dorms, but then I saw Crabbe and Goyle minus Malfoy, too. I nearly lost interest when I saw that they were walking towards one of the toilets, but then the sound came back even louder, and then there was this Slytherin, I think he was in our year, running out of there.

"So, I tugged the Cloak over my head and walked in. Malfoy was on the floor."

"So, maybe the silly git was having a good cry?"

"That's not it," Harry insisted, thinking back. "He didn't look like himself. He had these really long cat ears on his head, whiskers, claws, and his nose was different. I wouldn't have thought it was possible without Polyjuice, if it hadn't been for the Veela."

When Harry finished his explanation, his friends were eerily silent. The only sounds in the common room seemed to be the sound of Harry's heartbeat, and the steady roar of the flames.

"He looked like a cat…?" Hermione asked, her face skewed in thought. Ron looked mysteriously pale, not making a single sound.

"Ron, are  _you_  okay?" asked Harry, cautiously.

"I know what he is…" the red-haired teen muttered, teeth gritted in irritation. Bringing his hands up in anger, he stood up from his seat, a few chess pieces tipping over at the sudden movement. "He gives people shit for not being pure, yet he turns around and goes through an early magical inheritance?"

Harry blinked, and took a deep breath. Letting it out, he asked, "What exactly is a magical inheritance?"

Hermione answered, "Well, Harry, it's kind of like a wizard's coming of age, at seventeen. That's when they come into their full powers, and the trace is taken off."

Ron, for a change, cut Hermione off with a, "That's not exactly accurate."

Hermione gawped and sputtered, but Ron had already continued his explanation.

"Wizarding families never really put information like this in textbooks, just a very brief explanation. It's not something that is very… common in England, especially not with muggleborns, so it's relied on word-of-mouth.

"What it really is, mate, is when a person with wizarding  _and_  creature blood comes into their inheritance. No one really knows when this happens, or even why it does, but it varies from person to person.

"I have  _no_  idea how much time has passed since he has gone through the inheritance, though…"

Both Harry and Hermione openly gawked at Ron. When he stopped his silent contemplation of the wall above the fireplace, he scowled at their expressions.

" _What_?"

"Well, I hadn't known you knew so much about stuff like that," Hermione started.

"Just because I'm lazy academically, doesn't mean I don't know shite about my surroundings!"

"I didn't mean it like that, Ron!"

Harry sighed and stood up. Hermione and Ron paused in their argument, both huffing and puffing, to look at him.

Running a hand through his hair, Harry murmured, "I'm going upstairs to bed…"

Later on, he heard that same cry of discontent from hours before, and wondered what Malfoy was up to.

* * *

"Draco!" Vincent called out, banging on the teen's over-hanging curtains. Neither the bed, nor said curtains, budged an inch. "You can't just stay within your enclosure forever, you know!"

No sound came from behind the curtains, and Vincent quietly walked away to his bed, plopping down with his head in his hands. The mattress dipped on his left, and a strong hand gripped his shoulder.

With a steady anchor to lean on, the teen concentrated on strengthening his blocks. Draco had been in emotional turmoil yesterday, and it hadn't lessened much this morning. Truth be told, it felt even more powerful, the longer Draco stayed within the dormitory.

He growled at the thought of his own breakdown yesterday, if only from the waves of heartbreak, angst, self-pity, and  _taintdefiledunworthy_ that had come off his blond friend. Taking a deep breath, he felt his shields mentally click back into place, and rested his head on Gregory's shoulder.

"What are we going to do?" Vincent winced as his voice came out weak and broken.

"We only have two options," Greg began, a thumb caressing Vinny's shoulder. Vincent suppressed a shudder, nestling his face further into his anchor's neck, breathing in his rough scent. "One, we can tell Draco's parents…" Vincent froze and shook his head furiously. Greg chuckled lightly, "Or, we can tell Potter."

Both teens quieted in contemplation, before they reached a unanimous decision:

They had to tell Potter.

Several minutes later found both teens huddled in an alcove near the Gryffindor dormitories. Greg cast a quick  _Tempus_  and groaned in frustration.

"How long does it take someone to go downstairs for breakfast?" he whinged, arms crossed in front his chest.

"He's a  _Gryffindor_ , Greg," stated Vincent serenely, leaning against the wall with his shoulders touching the other teen's. "They aren't well-known for their punctuality."

"There's Granger, though…"

"She's an anomaly, as Draco has said before."

Just then, they heard the familiar obnoxious calls of the Golden Trio, along with a few tag-alongs.

Potter was at the front of the entire group, arms crossed and head ducked down. Letting down his shields the tiniest bit, Vincent could feel the frustration pouring off of him, like water hitting a rock, slowing breaking it down piece by piece. Placing a hand on Greg's arm, he inspected the spectacled teen's emotions a bit more before snapping his shields closed.

"Anything?" asked Greg, an arm around Vincent's shoulders.

"He's frustrated about Draco," he answered shortly, eye brows furrowed in thought. "Wondering about what he's doing, and what  _he_  should do."

"Do you think…?"

"I don't know," Vincent shrugged, stepping out of Greg's arm span. "But, we may as well confront him."

Both teens righted their clothing and stepped out of the alcove, standing a few yards in front of the group of Gryffindors. They all stopped, though Potter seemed to not have noticed.

"Potter," Greg started. The emerald-eyed teen nearly tripped over his feet, but righted his issue of balance quickly. "We need to talk."

Harry eyed them both warily, no doubt remembering their last encounter. Finally, he bobbed his head in silent agreement.

"But only if Ron and Hermione come with."

Greg and Vincent glanced at each other, before grunting unintelligibly.

They led the Trio towards an empty classroom, and shut the door behind them. A string of charms – from Silencing, to Locking – hit the door, before they shed their respective masks and looked at the nervous teens.

"Draco is in trouble, and we need your help."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I had Ron tell off Hermione... >~>
> 
> No longer promising weekly updates, but did you enjoy the new chapter?


	9. Oil on Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning(s): None

Harry looked between the two he'd previously only thought of as "Malfoy's Grunts". Despite how they normally acted, these two seemed to be much more intelligent than they had ever let on. It was, now, that Harry realised just how deep their bonds went, in relation to Malfoy.

Narrowing his eyes, he shared a suspicious glance with his friends, trying to think of the best way to go ahead. In retrospect, though, he realised Crabbe and Goyle had already stripped themselves of a major defense, and had even asked for their help, if not more directly than implied.

"Okay," Harry said slowly, the words sliding off his tongue like oil on water. It wasn't something he'd ever thought he'd have to consider, but Malfoy's behaviour, and what could be a desperate reach for help after just recently coming in to an "inheritance", pushed him to do so. Damn, but curiosity killed the cat. Hopefully, satisfaction would do its bound duty. "We're listening."

Behind him, he could sense Ron and Hermione's discontent and bewilderment at the situation, but he knew they would stay quiet.

"Ow!" he heard Ron whisper-shout, probably at Hermione.

Okay, he could trust Hermione to remain quiet, or at least not kick up a storm at what she didn't know.

Crabbe and Goyle displayed absolutely no expression on their faces, marks of true Slytherins. Harry was still marvelling at how they had had them all fooled, all these years.

"So," Crabbe started abruptly, hands crossed at his chest. "It began this summer."

"Of course, we'd both known there was something up long before the break had started. Draco was a lot more lethargic than he had ever been before. He was never a morning person, which speaks for itself," Goyle seemed to stifle a small chuckle at that, before sobering as he continued. "But, it'd never been as bad as that. He didn't have the energy to even open his eyes, let alone wave a wand at us for disturbing his beauty sleep."

"We got so worried at one point," Crabbe added. "That we had even contacted Madam Pomfrey via owl, though she was only the slightest bit helpful. Suggested that he started taking energy potions and the like, if he was stubborn enough to not even come in for a check-up or consultation. We should've dragged him there, instead of listening to his listless excuses. All he did was become more and more distant, though the Draco we knew was still there. He was just hidden underneath another exterior we hadn't wanted to notice."

Harry remained silent all throughout the Slytherins' recollection of the events that had occurred before the Summer Hols had even began. It sounded like Malfoy had gone through a huge transform, over a short time period. He felt distinctly uncomfortable, as though he was violating the blond's privacy, though he wasn't, not in the least.

Crabbe and Goyle's explanation of the events of the past few months continued on, rattling off a list of Malfoy's symptoms, and a few vague references to the information they'd all gathered together on the inheritance and the consequences of it all. That is, until they got to the reason they'd been so desperate to speak to Harry.

Pausing mid-sentence, Goyle glanced at Crabbe before saying, "The rest isn't in our place to say. We're going to consult Draco in a bit."

"Possibly later tonight," Goyle continued, casting a quick Tempus charm. The time shined brightly, signalling breakfast was almost over.

"I trust that we'll speak to you later on, Potter," Crabbe unlocked the door with a negligent wave of his wand, not even bothering to wait for a confirmation before the two teens had left the Trio to their individual commiserating.

"Wow," Harry slowly breathed, taking a seat atop a nearby desk.

"It sounds like the Ferret is getting what's been coming to him," Ron said, arms crossed to Harry's right. Harry raised an eyebrow at his friend's comment, though he felt himself silently agreeing just the slightest bit. That side of his personality could go piss off, though. This sounded a lot more serious than any insults or promises could ever imagine to be.

"Ron!" Hermione scolded, smacking the red-head's arm with a lot more force than it initially looked.

"Ow, Hermione," he cried out. "I'm just saying. After everything that's been happening so far this year, and what the evil bastard's said or done to us over the past others, you can't expect me to not celebrate this, just the slightest bit."

"Even so," Hermione shook her head, wayward strands of her frizzy, brown hair messily intertwining. "It's not something to ever say aloud. Have some tact!"

"Guys," Harry raised a hand, beckoning his friends to a few moments of silence. No matter what he thought, Harry seemed to always come back to the same answer. Jumping off the desk and heading for the door, Harry paused at the door knob before saying, "I'm going to help, Malfoy."

"But," both his friends' voices rose to the occasion. Even knowing how many times Malfoy had called her a Mudblood, among other things, it was nevertheless a surprise to hear Hermione's voice, as well, joining Ron in equal protest.

Pursing his lips, Harry bit down on that moment of hesitation before stating resolutely, "If I didn't do it now, then I'd be no worse than he is. No matter how much I may not like the bloody git, it makes no difference. His friends are clearly worried about him, and it doesn't seem like everything is how it seems."

Before his friends could try to change his mind, Harry ducked out the room and headed for his first class of the day, Potions.

When he got there, he noticed Crabbe and Goyle sitting at their familiar places, a seat between them inconspicuously empty. Making his own way to his seat, Harry met Crabbe's inquisitive stare and nodded his head slightly. Taking his things out and getting ready for the lesson of the day, along with Snape's familiar badgering, Harry just hoped he wouldn't regret his decision.

* * *

The day progressed on slower than usual. Harry was still brooding over his decision, and Malfoy's mysterious absence from classes. At one point, he'd managed to get through Umbridge's class without getting more than fifteen points taken from Gryffindor, due purely to both his inattentiveness, and the frog's obvious distaste of him.

Once the bell rang for the students to adjourn to the Great Hall, Harry stood up from his seat, the first student to exit the DADA classroom. Dodging his classmates' worried gazes, Harry felt a huge sense of relief to finally sit at his familiar seat, at his familiar table, neither going to unexpectedly change the rules around to their discretion. Breathing deeply, Harry started inspecting the selection of bread at the table.

After he'd managed to pick a decent amount of food to appease his complaining stomach, Hermione dropped into the seat directly across from him.

"How was your day?" Harry asked, after Hermione'd uncharacteristically stared at a spot on the table.

She seemed to startle out of her daze as she waved a hand, "It was okay."

Several seconds passed, before Hermione said, "You know..."

"Yeah?" Harry asked, stealing a bread roll from a basket on the table.

"It's weird, but I never realised just how much people are different from what they project."

"How so?" though Harry had a good idea what.

"When I walked into Arithmancy, I searched in my pockets, and found this."

She slid the note across the table, and Harry skimmed it.

"'Please take notes for D, today. As you know, we do not have Arithmancy with him. Thank you'..."

"Odd, right?"

"I saw Crabbe taking notes in class today," Harry offered up.

"Oh."

Both sat on this knowledge, uncomfortably.

"Hey!"

Ron slid into the seat next to Hermione, immediately taking a few pieces of meat from a nearby tray. "What did I miss?"

Harry and Hermione glanced at each other, before bursting into laughter. Ron just looked between the two of them, before shrugging his shoulders and muttering about, "Bloody Slytherins and the ways they affected his friends."

Lunch passed without another word on the subject of Malfoy, though it was always there at the back of Harry's mind. The way the blond had looked, that day, ears peeking out his head, oxymoronically shyly, lengthened claw-like nails... It was nearly ethereal, the way Malfoy had seamlessly transformed. Harry wondered just what sorta creäture he was.

By the time Crabbe and Goyle had managed to sneak yet another note, this time in Ron's pocket, Harry felt determined to help Malfoy as quickly as possible. The entire situation was far too weird to continue for any longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of any sort of update in what seemed to be half a year =/
> 
> Thank you, nevertheless, to those who have subscribed, given kudos, bookmarked, and left comments :3


	10. Midair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: None

Later on that same day, after the weirdness of having both Crabbe and Goyle pay more attention to them than usual, Harry and his friends finally headed towards the same room the two boys had ushered them into last time. Both brunets stood near the centre of the room, having cleared it of desks for some reason. There were still a few seats strung about the room, and yet still the heaviness of dust hung in the air. Harry's noise twitched at the smell, and he felt a sneeze coming on.

Before his body could react any more to the unpleasant scent, someone waved their wand and uttered a few murmured words, dissipating the dust from the room. Glancing at Hermione and Ron, he felt surprised when they both pointed in their own ways - Ron shrugged his shoulders and kicked at the floor, shoes scraping against the tiles, and Hermione waved a hand in their direction - towards Crabbe and Goyle. Harry thoughtfully glanced at both boys and inclined his head at them in a silent "Thank you."

Because it seemed as neither one of their groups would ever say anything, preferring to keep their own silence for as long as possible in hopes the other would leave or something, Harry cleared his throat and began.

"So, I'll be going to the Slytherin common room to see Malfoy, right?"

He heard his friends kick up a fuss behind him, and mentally groaned.

"Harry," Hermione urged, placing a hand on his arm. "We're going with you. You're not going alone."

"Yeah, mate," Ron looked at him as he had lost the plot during the course of the day. "No offence," he waved a vague hand in Crabbe and Goyle's direction. "But for all we know, most of the families in Slytherin could be involved with You-Know-Who."

Harry looked sharply at the two teens, and realised they weren't offended by Ron's insult. Or, at least it looked like they weren't. It was hard to tell in the dark room, and the blankness of their faces, wiped clean of all expression. It was sort of creepy, and Harry really wished they would show a lot more than they seemed to want to.

"Yeah, but I should be the only one going. There's no need to put you guys in a position you don't need to be in."

"In either case," Hermione waved off the concern in Harry's voice, in favour of her own reasonable decision. "I've brought the Cloak with me. We'll be going, whether you want us to or not."

And Harry had to pause and admire Hermione's show of Gryffindor bravery, or at least at her stubbornness. Sighing, Harry brought a hand up to run through his hair. After thinking it over in his mind for a few moments, he finally voiced his own agreement with Hermione and Ron's decision to go with him.

One more look at his friends said that they wouldn't back down, no matter what happened or he tried to say, and Harry felt a wave of gratitude move through him.

"If it makes you feel better," Crabbe spoke up for the first time since the Trio had stepped into the room. "We can always swear a Wizard's Oath that we won't allow any harm to come to you, under our joint knowledge."

"And it's not like we want anything to happen," Goyle said, shrugging his shoulders. "The fact is that we only want our friend to get better, and you're Gryffindors. You must understand the inclination to band together with those you may not like, if only to further your own cause, or help those around you, right?"

Their assessment of their characters, broken down into a few perceptive sentences, left Harry visibly stunned, and he wondered if there wasn't more to these two Slytherins than he ever thought possible.

Nodding his head, Harry then said, "What exactly is a Wizard's Oath?"

"It's a promise on their wands and magic that, should they break it, would inflict physical pain upon them for a long stretch of time, and can vary on punishment depending on the extent and cost of the promise made," there went Hermione, as if she were quoting some tome from deep in the bowels of the library word-for-word. "If they're willing, I can always administer it."

Both boys nodded their heads. "It's more insurance that it's done right, after all," was all Goyle said in response.

Bobbing her head, Hermione stood between Harry and the two boys, advising them to lift their wands and place them on their hearts.

"Do you swear that, under no circumstances, shall Harry Potter come to harm while you are both aware?" Hermione intoned, a strand of magic lifting from her own wand towards both boys.

"We do swear," Crabbe and Goyle effortlessly spoke in unison.

"On your magic and blood?"

"On our magic and blood."

The luminescent strand of topaz bisected, winding itself around their wrists, wands, and their necks, before disappearing.

Harry nodded, heading straight for the exit of the room.

"Might as well get going, now," he announced, holding the door open for his friends.

* * *

Staring at the space where the entrance stood, hidden, Harry had the faintest feeling of nostalgia. It hadn't been that long, in retrospect, but he remembered how he had felt when they'd designed the elaborate machination to trick Crabbe and Goyle when they were younger, thinking Malfoy was as evil as his father was. Shivering, Harry wrapped his cloak around his shoulders tighter and patted the space where his wand rested.

Crabbe murmured a word to the entrance, low enough that Harry and the others couldn't have possibly heard it, even if they had strained their ears, not without the assistance of some sort of eavesdropping charm.

When the entrance opened without even a noise to announce the imminent arrival of a pair of students, Harry pushed on ahead, leaving the door open a second longer for his friends to gain access to the common room, as well.

When he stood within the vaguely familiar common room, he realised there were still a few students dressed down from their usual robes hanging about the room. Each glance was carefully blank, though Harry was sure he could feel hostility coming from not a few of them. None looked to be in their year, and Harry nearly breathed a sigh of relief. At least the chance of their getting discovered by people beforehand, besides these younger students, would be a lot lower, at this point.

Using Crabbe and Goyle as guideposts in the unfamiliar territory of the Slytherin dormitory, they arrived at a door similar to the ones found at Gryffindor's own. ' _Some things just never change_ ,' Harry thought to himself.

"Now," Crabbe said, turning back towards Harry and his invisible friends. "We're going to go inside first. Gregory will let you know when you can enter. We just need to get his tacit approval of this method, if nothing else."

But Harry felt there was something else hanging in the air, unsaid. Though he felt curiosity tug at the corner of his mind, to ask further questions, Harry backed down and bobbed his head when Crabbe gave him a look, as if wanting him to confirm his understanding of the situation.

Both boys slipped through the door, and Harry leaned against the wall, shoulders slumping now that he was marginally alone, with maybe his friends the only ones seeing him. The uncertainty managed to bring back a few centimetres of tension, and he just wanted to get this entire thing done and over with. Hopefully, it was nothing serious. But it felt as if something uncommon lay just beyond the wood of the entrance...

Harry was inspecting the walls of the hallway, trying to ascertain just what colour the wallpaper or whatever reminded him of. He was on flatworms and some sort of flower when the door opened, and Goyle beckoned the Trio within their quarters.

The dorm room was set in a mixture of blues and greens, and it sort of shocked Harry, how vibrant and gay the colours were. It struck him ironic, and he bit his lip to stop himself from bursting into laughter.

He immediately sobered, however, when he scanned the beds and found Crabbe sitting at the bedside of Malfoy. He looked the part of a ghost, his skin slightly grey and not the normal pale tone it usually was. He looked more dead than alive, and Harry found, to his disconcertion, that he was rather alarmed at just how unhealthy the younger Slytherin looked.

"Malfoy?" he questioned dumbly, strolling in closer. The teen was tucked in, blankets covering his drab form, and tried his best sneer on for Harry. When it didn't have as nearly as much affect as it usually did, Harry found that alarm sinking within his veins, and he suddenly felt that he would do whatever he could to help the blond. The feeling pained him, so strong was it.

"Potter," he had decided to settle for an effortlessly blank face, and glanced at his friends before sighing and saying, "You might as well tell your friends to cancel the charm, or whatever they're using to remain invisible. I'm guessing you would rather Granger explain a few of the things I say, rather than just rely on whatever information I give you, yeah?"

Harry was struck dumb, once again, before he nodded over his shoulder and they took the Cloak off.

"Ah," Malfoy's tone was mildly surprised, if even that. "That does explain a lot.

"Now," he continued. "Might as well take a seat. This will be a while."

And Harry settled in for a story-telling he wasn't looking forward to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!
> 
> Thank you to those who have taken the time to read, leave Kudos, and even commented :3


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